


Strawberry Napalm

by Chakramancerrr



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Finger Sucking, Fluids, Hand Fetish, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn Without Plot, Slow Build, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Vaginal Fingering, aft play, sensitive medic hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-17 02:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11266362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chakramancerrr/pseuds/Chakramancerrr
Summary: Drift and Ratchet do a little experimenting.





	Strawberry Napalm

Drift had pounced on Ratchet the second he got back to their hab suite. He had him pinned against the nearest wall, spike already out of it's housing and brushing against Ratchet's thighs.

"Missed you." Drift purred, giving the doctor's neck a quick nibble.

"Missed me? More like missed interfacing with me." Ratchet scoffed, trying to push him off. Drift let Ratchet break his grasp and took a step backwards.

"It's fine if you don't want to. We can always do something else." Drift assured him, trying to hide his disappointment.

"Just because you are a young mech doesn't mean you get to top all the time." Ratchet replied. "Why don't you lay back instead."

"I guess I could live with that." Drift said, shrugging. He walked over and flopped onto the berth. He positioned himself with his arms folded underneath his helm and his thighs spread wide.

Ratchet knelt in between the younger mech's legs. He wrapped his servo around Drift's spike and started an up and down motion. The pressure of Ratchet's palm did feel pretty good, though it wasn't something Drift couldn't do for himself. 

Drift laid back patiently hoping that Ratchet was building up something more substantial. It wasn't that he wasn't turned on it was more that he desired something more intense. He wanted to get exited for Ratchet but sitting back wasn't doing it for him. 

"Something wrong?" Ratchet asked. He noticed that Drift didn't seem as revved up as before.

"No I'm fine, please." Drift answered. He wanted something that felt more pleasurable than an ordinary wank. Though, he did enjoy Ratchet's touch so he stayed put.

"Maybe you'd prefer I use my mouth?" Ratchet suggested, a wily grin on his faceplate.

"Yeah, that would be a lot better." Drift replied, mirroring the same grin.

It had been, in all honesty a long time since Ratchet had been with another mech and an even longer time since he had given a spike job. He simply put Drift in his mouth and applied suction.

"Um...Ratch...do you mind doing that thing with your glossa?" Drift asked, hoping for a little more creativity.

Ratchet drew back with an audible pop. "What thing?" He asked, his brow scrunched.

"Y'know. The glossa thing." Drift attempted to explain.

"Drift, if you want me to do this 'thing' you are going to need to be a little more specific." Ratchet intoned.

"Uhh, its like...." Drift was at a loss for words and the energon flowing away from his processor did nothing to help the situation. "Here give me your servo."

Ratchet looked puzzled, yet did what was asked of him. He offered his servo to the swordsmech. Drift took his red digit up to his lips and swirled his glossa around the tip of it, then followed with a gentle suck. Ratchet's whole frame jerked. Drift paused before repeating the process of swirling his glossa around and around, then delivering the same gentle suck. This time Ratchet had uttered a subtle moan. 

"My digits are sensitive you know." Ratchet gasped.

"I thought that was only a myth. Something made up by those who fawn over medics." Drift teased. "Though we _could_ make a game out of it. I'll touch your digits the way I want you to touch my spike."

"I'll start with your 'glossa thing'." Ratchet teased back, settling down by Drift's spike again. This time he knew exactly what to do. He ran his glossa around the tip of Drift's spike, noting it's sensitivity. He did this several times listening to Drift's vents grow heavy. Then he finished up with that same light suck.

Drift slipped two of Ratchet's digits deep inside of his mouth, down to the beginnings of his palm. It was the only hint Ratchet needed to draw in the rest of Drift's spike down to the hilt. When Drift slowly pulled Ratchet's digits out of his mouth while applying suction, the medic did the same to his spike.

Drift let out a breathy moan, yet Ratchet didn't stop. He continued by performing the last motion that the younger mech requested over again. The contact of Drift's soft wet mouth on his digits was making it grow harder for the medic to concentrate. 

"You really like that huh?" Drift asked between orders. Ratchet replied with a simple grunt as he did not wish to abandon the spike within his mouth.

Drift understood what that had meant and to keep doing it. The fact that Ratchet was getting off by his digits being played with fueled Drift's fire. He trailed kisses up and down Ratchet's digits. Ratchet did the same with Drift's spike. He uttered a laugh which he had tried to stifle. Drift hadn't imagined that a kiss upon his spike could tickle.

"What in Primus name are you laughing at?" Ratchet grumped.

"Nothing. It just felt funny is all." Drift admitted with an almost goofy looking grin. "How was I supposed to know my spike could be ticklish, you are the doctor."

Ratchet rolled his optics. There was no point in arguing or explaining, unless he wanted interfacing to turn into a lecture. As intelligent as Drift was, right now was not the time for an anatomy lesson.

"Are you gonna suck my digits or what?" Ratchet asked impatiently.He wasn't one to beg but Drift knew when he had the better of the older mech. He was too prideful to admit it, yet Drift could read between the lines.

"Like this?" Drift teased back. He took Ratchet's servo and stroked the back of it, running the tips of his digits along the struts of his hand. Gentle when he rubs them and roughly when the tips of his digits massage the back of his servo in a raking fashion.

Ratchet made a soft growl. He felt tempted to use his free servo to stroke himself yet it was snatched up before he could open his panel. He watches Drift kiss his palm, followed by each of his finger pads.

A coy smile from the swordsmech at the flush on the other mech's faceplate. Drift focuses his attention on Ratchet's palm. Nuzzling his faceplate against it, greeting it with playful nips and then dragging his glossa over it as if it were his valve.

It took all of Ratchet's resolve to focus and keep sucking on Drift's spike. The way he was having to vent with a spike in his mouth made him feel slightly dizzy. Normally he would have called Drift out for being carried away, but he was enjoying himself far too much to protest. Suddenly an overload sends heat radiating through Ratchet's frame. His digits twitch and spasm as he inadvertently floods his panel. A chuckle from Drift.

"I didn't mean to do that." Ratchet huffed averting his optics yet remaining mostly composed. 

"It's not like it really matters. "I like the way you taste." He purred into Ratchet's audial. The swordsmech pulled Ratchet's frame upwards against his and kissed him roughly.

Still hazy from his overload Ratchet didn't have time to speak before he felt Drift's glossa. He had begun licking the seams around Ratchet's interface panel. He traced the lines in search of spilled fluids, not sparing a single drop. Ratchet groaned, opening his panel slowly. His valve then greeted by Drift's wandering glossa, faceplate buried between Ratchet's legs. His glossa lapping against Ratchet's node, cleaning any spilled transfluid to be found.

"You're soaking." He said, slowly pressing a digit inside. That was an understatement. Fluids continued to run, streaking the medic's inner thighs. The tip of Drift's glossa traced each streak until none remained.

Ratchet hears an engine rev from Drift that expresses his need. He decides to drag it out a bit, making Drift wait. Ratchet was ready for him but wanted to hear Drift say it, especially since he was taking charge tonight.

"Maybe you should just lie back and let me do the work, hmm?" Drift suggested.

"Once I get comfortable." Ratchet tells him as he takes the side of the berth opposite to Drift.  
Ratchet poses on his side with his legs apart which immediately lures Drift to pounce on top of him and pull him close. The younger mech nibbles at his neck cables in a playful manner. As their frames touch Drift is reminded of his needs by the heat radiating off of his mate.

Drift knows Ratchet is well teased but he cannot resist sliding his digits inside of his valve. He gives it a few pumps with his digits before inserting his well hardened spike. 

Ratchet's helm tilts back against the berth as his breath grows heavy. His bottom lip held between his denta as Drift begins to move. Drift takes Ratchet roughly against the berth as both mechs had been well teased. He had been waiting for this all solar cycle long and wished to show Ratchet just how badly he wanted him. After a few thrusts Ratchet's spike emerges, no longer wanting to be contained within it's housing.

Drift leans back to allow his mate's spike to rise to full pressure. Ratchet wraps his legs over Drift's shoulders to keep the gap between them wide enough to stroke his spike. This pose gives Drift the best possible view of Ratchet's interface.

"Like to watch huh?" Ratchet teases, looking into Drift's optics.

Drift was monetarily taken aback, a flush spreading across his faceplate. His look of surprise was quickly replaced with a playful smirk. It wasn't as if he could fool Ratchet anyway. "Yeah. You look so hot it would be nearly impossible to look away." Drift admitted.

"Then you may be interested to know that I stroke my spike this way when I think of you." Ratchet purred.

"That's really hot Ratch." Drift replied. As those words left his vocalizer he realized that may have sounded quite awkward. However he remained shameless within the haze of his desires.

The idea of Ratchet doing such a thing made Drift's servos squeeze Ratchet's thighs where they had come to rest. He increases the speed of his thrusts, going deeper with each movement of his hips. Ratchet groans softly as he feels the rippled texture of Drift's spike massage a rather sensitive node cluster.

Drift notices this and moves against that node cluster to evoke more moans from the medic. The way he used his spike was what Ratchet enjoyed most about interfacing with Drift. While Drift showed plenty of enthusiasm he was never overzealous with his thrusts. His movements were as smooth and focused as the swordsmech he was.

Ratchet's valve grew tight as his breath grew heavy. His spike begins to swell, resting against his abdominal plating as he frees his grasp. Without needing to be asked Drift takes hold of it and begins to stroke it in time with his movements.

"Easy now." Ratchet tells Drift with a knowing look in his optics. 

Drift nods and keeps his touch light. He knows Ratchet is planning something so he keeps his touch light as to not bring Ratchet to a spike overload just yet. He returns his focus to what he had been doing until he feels Ratchet shift underneath him.

"Don't just focus on me, I am fully intent on returning the favor." Ratchet said, brushing the younger mech's finials. "I want you to have a good time too."

Drift realized that he had been holding back. He had gotten so focused on pleasing Ratchet that he had forgotten to relax. It wouldn't be much fun if Ratchet were to be the only one to overload.

Drift could feel it welling up within him although, he had not properly built up to his overload. His frame tensed as he tried to stoke up his need. He knew by Ratchet's breaths and movement that he was due to overload again soon. 

Ratchet knew this too, yet he did not hold back. He rocks against Drift's body to coax him in to fragging him harder. It wasn't long before Drift was fragging him into the berth making him moan his name.

Drift kisses Ratchet's neck, gently grazing his cables with his denta. Ratchet's legs pull tight around Drift's hips, pulling him in deeper. His forehead meets Ratchet's shoulder as he starts to lose himself in the act of interfacing.

Ratchet utters a moan as if to admit that Drift is getting the better of him. Drift's whole frame shakes as he can feel Ratchet's valve clenching around his spike as if to squeeze his transfluid from him. 

Drift lets go, joining Ratchet in overload. He continues to move his hips to extend both their overloads. He only ceases to move once his arms can barely hold his frame up. As soon as Ratchet is able to catch his intake he places his servos on Drift's shoulders to bear some of his weight.

"I think it is your turn to lie back." Ratchet tells Drift, stroking his audials.

Drift slowly pushed his frame up to a kneeling pose, taking pause to breathe. His body felt rather stiff from so much activity. At this point he would be alright with recharging for the night but, if he didn't have to do the work he could go another round. 

He gives Ratchet a prideful smile and pulls him close. Ratchet puts his arms around Drift, helping him ease down against the berth. He kisses Drift deeply as he does this. Even at this point there is no urge for him to rush.

Drift settles down on the berth before turning over so that he is lying on his front. He turns his helm to see Ratchet, catching him glancing at his aft plate. 

"Am I taking you from behind tonight?" Ratchet asks, taking a feel of Drift's thighs.

"Would you rather me turn over?" Drift asks, knowing full well what Ratchet would say shifting his hips from site to side. The answer was written on Ratchet faceplate, Drift's hips beckoning him forward. 

"Of course not." Ratchet chuckles while his servos roam Drift's backside. He positions himself behind Drift, in between his legs allowing one of his servos to pass over his valve. Drift presses insistently against Ratchet's servo.

Ratchet rubs his digits against the folds of Drift's valve and then his clitoral node. He knows Drift is eager to be fragged, still he enjoys the feel of the slick metal against his digits. His sensitive medic hands coming into play as his digits draw slow circles around his node. Then he eases one of his digits inside Drift using it to guide his spike. He does this simply because he enjoys the feel of it. He presses inside in one smooth motion as Drift had been teased enough to the point that his valve was relaxed and well lubricated.

Drift gasps softly as he feels the spike slide within him, his servos clutching the headrest of the berth. Once Ratchet begins to move Drift arches his back, using a slightly different angle to change the feeling.

Ratchet grasps Drift's hips as he frags him senseless into the berth. His servos trailing the seams as best as he is able between thrusts. He runs his palms upwards to feel Drift's aft. The medic smirks as he gets an idea.

"How do you feel about your aft played with?" Ratchet asks, looking down at the exposed port above his valve.

"I've never tried it." Drift admitted. He was so relaxed yet filled with vigor that he was willing. He knew Ratchet was trustworthy and that his medical knowledge gave him a higher chance of not hurting him. "You can try, but nothing too big. At least not yet."

"I plan to start with something easy." Ratchet tells him. He traces a digit around the rim of his port, just to see how Drift reacts to it. At first Drift tenses up, getting used to this new sensation. It felt oddly arousing to be touched in such a way.

Noting Drift's silence Ratchet returns his attention to fragging Drift's valve rather than his aft port, at least for the moment. If he wanted more he would speak up but for now the pleasures of Drift's tight valve were a tempting way to lose himself.

"I didn't say you needed to stop." Drift spoke trying to look over his shoulder to see what Ratchet was thinking.

"Just tell me if you _do_ need me to stop." Ratchet reminds Drift. His digit nearing Drift's afthole. 

"No need to worry so much. I'm durable." Drift teases.

Ratchet paused for a moment and then slowly pressed the tip of his digit inside. Drift stills for a moment and then melts into the sensation of the intrustion. Something about this made him want more stimulation. His aft being teased made his entire array become much more sensitive.

Ratchet slowly pulls his digit out and presses it back inside the tight port. Drift groans deeply, arching his back so far that his helm comes to rest on the berth. Ratchet smiles to himself when he hears the younger mech's engine purring.

Ratchet places his free servo on the side of Drift's aft to hold him steady and remind him he's there. Drift's comfort is just as important to him as his pleasure. He rubs his servo against Drift's plating for a moment, then adds another digit.

Ratchet holds Drift by the front of his hips, pressing deep into his valve. As his spike sinks in, it sends a warm feeling down his spinal strut. He knows this feeling all too well, he carefully holds on to the sensation as to not let it get the better of him just yet. 

Drift's moan is stifled only by the surface of the berth. Ratchet takes his time fragging him slowly with his spike while his digits mirror the movement of his hips. Drift felt on the verge of bursting, his frame tensing. Ratchet was able to wring an overload from him without roughness.

Drift's moans came out muffled, but his writhing frame expressed everything Ratchet wanted to hear. His servos grab onto the sheet as his frame twitches and jolts. Ratchet relaxes his frame so that he may move with Drift to extend his overload a moment longer. 

Ratchet must make a split second choice of places to overload. The sights and sensations had gotten the better of him. There was a temptation to paint Drift's back with his transfluid. Although filling his aft with transfluids wasn't an option it still crossed Ratchet's processor. 

He keeps is spike buried inside Drift as he allows himself to overload. A quiet yet strong overload which makes him breathe heavy. Drift can feel the inclusion of hot transfluid fill his valve before Ratchet pulls back.

"Perhaps we should head to the washracks once you are able to get up." Ratchet suggested. "No rush." He shifts on the berth before seating himself to rest for a moment. He takes Drift's servo for closeness as they cool off.


End file.
